


Even Distribution

by Cameron_McKell



Series: Upon Further Review [7]
Category: Tron (Movies), Tron - All Media Types, Tron: Legacy (2010)
Genre: M/M, Past major character injury, Recovery, Tron Fandom Ship Week, Unresolved Argument
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-19
Updated: 2013-09-19
Packaged: 2017-12-27 01:23:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/972687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cameron_McKell/pseuds/Cameron_McKell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tron and Sam don't see eye to eye on something.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Even Distribution

**Author's Note:**

> Sequel to "No Skipping Out On Me".

“-ad us worried there for a second.”

 

All at once, Tron came back online. While his scans were still running to determine just _where_ he was and _who_ might be with him, he rocked back onto his shoulders, then flipped upright, grabbing for his disks.

 

They were gone.

 

He didn't have time to properly worry about that fact before he was on his feet, and everything became overwhelmed by _pain itching crawling burning oh User what happened hurts can't was there a Virus?..._

 

His audio output seized as he crumpled to the floor.

 

Strong arms caught him partway down, and panic shot through his processes while he tried to identify _who_ _had_ _him,_ what were they planning to do to him, he had to fight back, but he could barely _move_ through the pain, and _where were his disks?_

 

His cooling system kicked into overdrive while Tron struggled, but the other's hold on him stayed firm – initial scan results were incredibly familiar, but his processing abilities were scrambled and inefficient at present – while he was maneuvered backward, onto some soft, horizontal surface.

 

Once the pressure of holding his frame upright had been removed from his lower half, the pain lessened until he could process around it, and identify the arms that were still holding on to his shoulders.

 

“Sam?”

 

“Welcome back,” Sam smiled at him, but there was something _off_ about it; the usually-fluid facial expression was fixed in size and shape, and the muscles around the User's eyes were tight, which narrowed his gaze slightly, and generated a wrinkle in the skin between his eyebrows.

 

Confused and worried, Tron offered a hesitant smile back, then haltingly reached for his face, and lightly brushed one finger over the odd wrinkle, ignoring the twinges of pain that even that light touch generated. “Are you all right?”

 

This was apparently the wrong thing to say.

 

“Am _I?!_ -” Sam jerked away from him violently, and Tron struggled to lock down a wince as the motion jostled the bed he was laid out on, and his legs in particular. Sam paced the confines of the unfamiliar room they were in – his scans categorized it as a repair folder; had someone been damaged? – then spun around to face him, expression clearly anguished, “You nearly _derezzed_ in my arms, and _you_ ask if _I'm_ all right?!”

 

Tron blinked in surprise at this, then prioritized the recovery of his memory files from the microcycles before his abrupt shut down; it would explain why he was experiencing pain responses, as the repair information integrated with his existing code. They'd been with Quorra when the alert came in – “Is Quorra all right?”

 

Sam grabbed at his own hair, and hissed air in through gritted teeth for a moment, then dropped his hands forcefully, “Quorra's fine, the only person that got damaged was _you_ , Bit-brain.” The majority of Tron's available processing power was tied up in reconstructing his memories – it had been a massive assault; the most comparable event he'd ever faced was in the aftermath of the MCP's destruction – in such a way that it took 327% longer for Tron to identify Sam's new expression.

 

He looked _betrayed._

 

Distressed by this discovery, Tron purred – though the reverberations caused the pain in his frame to spike, which in turn choked the purr down to a sputtering, gurgling noise – then weakly grab Sam's hand the next time he paced by. At first, Sam moved to tug away, then he sighed, and seated himself on the edge of the bed; Sam looked tired, worn down to his base code, so Tron paused his memory reconstruction long enough to synchronize his internal chronometer back up with the system, then clutched the User's hand tighter.

 

Had Sam been with him the _entire_ time he was offline?

 

“Why did you do it, Tron?” The words sounded like they pained Sam to say, and it hurt to hear Sam like that. Tron gave a weak tug, and Sam followed the motion, lying down next to him and burying his face in his shoulder; Tron was grateful that Sam refrained from aggravating his condition by touching any lower than his waist, but he was even more grateful for the contact itself. Their joined hands were trapped under Sam's body, so Tron reached out with his free hand – a twinge from deep in his torso at the movement encouraged him to keep the motion slow and smooth – and gently stroked through Sam's hair; Sam shuddered at the contact, then moved his head just enough so he could ask, “Why did you lock me out?”

 

The last pieces of data fell into place.

 

The grenades.

 

“I was attempting to give you more time,” Tron began hesitantly; didn't Sam understand? “I was unsure if the unauthorized programs had coded-in resistance to bombs; if that had been the case, you would have been in danger, and I was no longer in a position to assist you in another way.” Sam made a  sort of choked sound, and shifted closer to the program; Tron focused on the closeness, and blocked the slight increase in pain at the contact. Shutting off physical inputs, or shutting down again, were gradually increasing in advisability...

 

“So you could have thrown _both_ grenades at them. _Tron_ , you were falling to pieces when we managed to break back in. Alan and I have been working on you almost non-stop for _days_ , from _inside_. The only reason he's not here to lecture you on _casually sacrificing yourself_ is because one of us had to show their face at the board meeting this morning. We almost _lost_ you – _I_ almost lost you.”

 

“You are my priority, Sam,” Tron replied, attempting to screen from his tone the shame he felt at causing so much trouble to his User, and the other half of his dedicated pair. “If a way exists for me to assist you, and keep you safe from trauma, I will execute it. Witnessing the deresolution of a bonded pair is highly traumatic; I didn't want you to be forced to watch that too, and by doing so, I was also keeping you safe. It was simple addition, Sam.”

 

“You're my priority, too, Tron. How can I help you when you actively work against me being able to do so, though? We're a pair; we're on the same team-” Sam choked up a little for a moment, then pressed on, “Don't take away my choice to be at the most important place in my life – by your side. And if the unthinkable _does_ happen someday, to either of us, trust in Alan, and Quorra, and everyone else, to pick us back up, but please,” he shifted to look Tron in the eye, “ _please_ , don't take away my last moments with you.”

 

Tron nodded slightly, though they both knew the discussion wasn't resolved; they were coming from two very different points of view, understanding the other's position, and reaching some sort of agreement would take time. For now, though, it would have to wait, as Tron could already feel himself going distant and loose with reinitializing shut down.

 

He felt soft pressure at his lips, and tried to respond in kind, only half succeeding before Sam had moved on, placing fleeting kisses on both of his cheeks, before settling down into Tron's shoulder again.

 

“We're always on the same-”

 

Tron's audio input was the last to cut out.


End file.
